My Sharona

"Hold him, Sharona," she said. He felt arms encircling him tightly, too close, and he panicked. He tried to break free, but Sharona was surprising in her strength. "She works out every day," Mockingbird replied to his unspoken thought. "I want to keep my good girl nice and healthy, and I also like it when she has a little stamina. Sleeper hold, dear." Devon felt Sharona's arm encircle his neck, and as everything went gray around the edges, he realized Sharona was pressing his carotid artery and jugular vein. He tried to struggle, but it only seemed to be a moment before everything went from gray to black.

*****

When Devon woke up, he was still in Sharona's apartment, but he couldn't move. He was tied to a chair, and as he looked down, he noticed that his clothes were gone. Mockingbird was sitting across from him, and as she saw consciousness return to his eyes, she stood up, stepped over to him, jabbed a needle in his thigh, plunged down the syringe and sent clear, cold fluid into his veins, and went back to her chair, all in a single swift motion. "Just a little something to help relax you, dear," she said.

"What...what are you going to do to me?" He heard the fear in his own voice, but it already sounded muzzy.

"That's an excellent question," Mockingbird said. She gestured, and Sharona suddenly stepped into his field of vision. She sat down on the floor next to him, and put her hand in his lap. He felt uncomfortably helpless with her fingers just gently touching his balls. "Obviously, the police aren't going to be able to do much to you. They can charge you with trespassing, and probably do something nasty to that poor super for giving you a key to this place, but that'd probably be small change. Maybe just a fine, even, and I'm sure you can pay that." She must have found the spare key. Had she talked to the superintendent already? Had she snapped him out of his trance? Did he want some sort of payback too? Devon looked down at the tiny bead of blood where the needle had gone in. It already seemed to be slipping in and out of focus.

"I suggested payment in kind," Sharona said, her voice hot with vengeful pleasure. "You wanted to make me a slave, so I thought I might just go ahead and get my Lady to make you into one for me. Someone to run my errands, hold packages for me, maybe do the cooking and the cleaning..."

Mockingbird held up a hand, and Sharona went immediately silent. "But a slave is a big responsibility, I told her. You have to take care of them, and make sure they're healthy, and happy. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Devon?"

A sick chill ran through him. He looked up at her. "How...how did you..."

Mockingbird smiled at him. "Oh, come on now, Devon. You really didn't think this was the first time you woke up in that chair, did you?" He felt his balls tighten in fear. "It's Saturday, Devon. I've already put you under and woken you up, and put you under and woken you up, and now you're starting to wonder just how long you were under, how many times you came back up, you're wondering why you can't remember the other times, you're wondering what else I might have done to your brain, you're wondering whether there was really a drug in that syringe, or whether I just hypnotized you into believing there was a drug in that syringe, and now you're so worried about how hypnotized you really are that you haven't noticed that you've just been staring into my eyes while I've been talking so fast that your conscious mind can't even hold all the words in and it seeps into your unconscious mind and takes hold of your brain and you can't fight it, can you, Devon, you can't fight me--"

He shook his head, blinking hard to try to clear his brain. He felt Sharona's fingers on his cock and balls, stimulating his nerves and distracting him even more. "I can, I...I can fight..."

"Oh, but you know it works, you know hypnosis works even if you're trying to fight. You know all the tactics I'm using on you because you've used them on so many girls, and they've never been able to break free, Devon, even the ones that figured out what you were doing and tried to fight it, they couldn't break free. You know what's coming, you know I can enslave your will, you know I will enslave your will, you know your will is my will, Devon, and I will control your will with my will because your will is my will--"

His lips felt thick and numb, but he spat out, "You're not..." He took a deep breath, forced the words out. "You're not any better than I am."

Mockingbird's smile was predatory, now, like a wolf preparing to spring. "I could debate that, Devon. I could tell you that I take good care of Sharona, that she's my special girl and I love her, that I've taken special care not to crush her mind. I haven't taken away her goals, her dreams, her hopes, her friends or family, just given her love and attention." She got up, and walked over to him, leaned in close. He could smell faint perfume. "But I'd be lying and we both know it. We aren't any different, Devon. I'm more careful, perhaps, but we do both want the same thing. Total control. I guard the desires you unleash. That's the only difference, and it's oh so very very small."

She leaned in even closer now, whispering right in his ear, and he could feel her breath on his skin. "But that's the wonderful thing about today, Devon. I have wanted so badly to break someone's spirit, to utterly crush someone's will and leave them a broken, pliant, obedient shell of a human being with no desire save to please me, but my treacherous conscience has kept me from doing it for so long, because I just couldn't find anyone who deserved that. And now, suddenly, like an answer to my prayers...here. You. Are."

She leaned back, locked her eyes onto his. "Devon," she said. "Listen to the mockingbird."

And he was gone.

*****

Doctor Madsen looked down at his clipboard, and back again through the observation window at his patient. "Twenty years," he said, "and still no sign of any change. Damndest case I ever had." He looked across at the visitor. "Do you really think you can help?" he said.

"Definitely," the other man said. He was in his late forties, perhaps early fifties. It was hard to tell exactly how old he was, because he looked like he'd been through a small war. His body was pockmarked with scars, he had a missing finger or two. Something told Doctor Madsen he'd led a hard life. "I'm an expert at helping women like this."

"You've seen other women like this?" Doctor Madsen said, gesturing through the window. "Because I haven't. They just found her like this, sitting in her own apartment. She was a little malnourished--they actually had to tell her to eat, can you believe it? We still do. She does whatever she's told, though. We keep her in a private cell because if she's around the other patients, they...well, they take advantage of her. We don't even leave her with just a single orderly, just to keep them away from temptation."

"I'll help her. I'll bring her mind back, restore the person she was. I have to." Devon looked intently at the woman in the padded room. "She's the last one. Then I can finally rest."

He was finally taking responsibility for the last of his girls, the first of his girls. Madame Mockingbird would be pleased.

THE END